There are some choices you have to make where there seems no right option, you just have to choose which choice feels the least wrong. For the Argonian village of Haj Uxith, it was their Hist Tree that made the most raw and uncomfortable of choices in making a bargain with the Lord of Brutality to save its tribe.

Now stranded in this land of eternal shadows, with their Hist Tree poisoned by the noxious Coldharbour environment, and kept weak by the Daedra harvesting its sap for insidious purpose, it is time for the tribe to reciprocate, and make the right choice for their Hist.

To say you cannot choose, or you have no choice is but to relieve yourself of responsibility, and as the Argonian proverb says, ‘You cannot cross the swamp merely by standing and staring into its waters.’ Yet this tribe finds itself so ideologically split that it cannot make the choice it needs to.

Would that I could walk away and leave them to make this choice themselves, but in doing so I would only in fact be making that choice for them, for they would be bound to accept their situation. So swiftly and without procrastination I make their choice, and hope that it may be the least wrong.

S.K

There is no greater place in all Tamriel to shelter from the rain then in a library. They are full of small windows through which we can see glimpses into other lives, and other experiences. They are archives of dreams, where we can share the hopes, and hearts of all men and mer, no matter politics or religion. We may sit in our local libraries and yet at the same time be in any quarter of Nirn or beyond. They are temples for our minds, taverns for our souls; and they can be anything that we can imagine.

Yet perhaps only in Coldharbour can be found a library turned into a prison.

Members from the mages guild expedition have been locked in the Library of Dusk by Dremora, held not by lock and key, but by spell and glamour. It is whilst here that I discover the famed Telenger the Artificer’s reputation for brutish brilliance is precisely as I read it to be. But more importantly, we also discover one of the fabled Lights of Merida; a source of power which the daedric prince used to push her city into the eternal crepuscule of Coldharbour.

S.K

Upon entering the unexpected city I am greeted by a women who introduces herself as the ‘Groundskeeper’, and claims to be one of the few survivors in what she calls, The Hollow City.

There something more to this woman then meets the eye. She is rather plain in appearance, yet perfectly so, and I find her captivating, yet cannot recall why. She knows all about our invasion, and even offers her city as an ‘Armour against the hazards of Coldharbour’. And though she seems sincere, I sense she isn’t being wholly honest.

As she leads me on a tour of her Hollow City, she tells the story of how back on Nirn the city, whose citizens were devoted to the daedric prince Meridia, came under attack by the minions of the Lord of Brutality. Seemingly on the verge of defeat, Meridia warded the entire city, and then used Molag Bal’s own portals to push it into Coldharbour.

I recall whilst working with the Fighter’s Guild to discover the fate of the dread weapon Mortuum Vivicus, the then guildmaster Sees-All-Colors opened a portal for us into the ruins of Abargarlas, an ancient Ayleid city whose citizens worshipped Molag Bal. She then cast another spell so we could experience the events prior to the city’s destruction through the eyes of a servant of Meridia. The priest was tasked with destroying the Mortuum Vivicus before it destroyed his home city of Delodiil. At the same time the King of Abagarlas was marching his own army upon Delodiil. However, when he crossed the valley he found that the city was gone. Could this Hollow City be vanished Delodiil?

Whilst the city itself arrived in Coldharbour intact, many of its citizens were scattered across the realm, much the same as has happened to the guilds invasion. The Groundskeeper claims that the remaining survivors lost their faith in Meridia ,and left the safety of her warded city in an attempt to return to Nirn. ‘They were foolish’, she says, ‘and they paid the price for rejecting Meridia’s edicts.’ How little these daedric princes understand us mortals, who think our own bodies but a prison.

S.K

As soon as I step through the portal, I am almost overwhelmed by the bitter cold and the oppressive stench of decay that seems to clutch at the very breath in my lungs. Welcome back to Coldharbour.

It takes a moment for my eyes to attune to the murky light, and only then do I become aware that I am all alone; well not quite alone… is that Sir Cadwell charging towards me?

Portals to Oblivion it turns out are about as unpredictable as Nord’s arrows during the New Life Festival, and Cadwell believes our invasion force has been spread far and wide across these cheerless lands. With the many daedric Clannfear I see roaming near I decide to search for cover, and soon espy a bridge leading to a rather unexpected city.

S.K